2100. My fishpond

(As some of you know, for a significant Story Number, I sometimes lapse into reality. Here then is Story 2100 to celebrate Story 2100!)

I thought I would tell you about the time I set out to make a fishpond. It was the first time I had downloaded plans for anything from the internet – and in this case it was how to make a fishpond. It was at a boarding high school in Christchurch where I taught and lived as a house master. I asked the principal of the school if I might make a path through the lawn that was next to the Administration Block. He was more than surprised when I turned up with a tractor with a frontend loader!

The plan was to make the work of art over several weekends. I had multitudinous helpers as every boarding student and his dog wanted to help. The first thing was to dig a hole – no deeper than the Christchurch City Council stipulated before it required safety fencing.

The next thing was to gather rocks to create a tumbling waterfall. Then it was a question of installing an underwater pump and hoses with a secret hole drilled through the bricks into the Administration Block to plug the pump into an electric system! After that it was a question of mixing concrete and creating the tumbling waterfall and pond itself.

The final thing was to landscape the piles of dirt and make a higgledy-piggledy path through the area.

Volunteers arrived with shrubs and pond plants from goodness knows where. One parent donated a little garden statue. Another parent arrived with three goldfish even before there was water in the pond! Oh! I forgot to mention that along with the pump I had installed a water fountain and under water and garden lighting, all on an automatic time switch.

When all was done, things were turned on. I have memories of two comments. One from the headmaster who stood looking at it in wonder and said: “I thought you said you were just making a path.” The other comment was from a neighbouring high school. A team had come to play rugby. After the match the visiting team members were standing looking at the pond. One boy said: “Why can’t our school have one of these?”

Tragically, 14 years later the Christchurch earthquake struck killing 185 people. It also unfortunately destroyed the fishpond.

1853. Goldfish pond murder

The murder had been a long time in coming, but it was well worth the wait. Dale’s third wife, Damaris, had tragically drowned. One minute she was sitting in a wheelchair in the sunshine reading Margaret Mitchell’s novel Gone with the Wind and the next minute she herself was gone – floating dead in the garden goldfish pond, wheelchair and all.

Husband Dale was distraught. “I never knew wheelchairs could float,” he gasped at the policeman. People in morning sometimes say the silliest things. Later he added something about “fortunately she didn’t get the book wet.”

It must be stated clearly from the beginning that Damaris didn’t need to sit in the wheelchair. She was perfectly well in all respects. Her visiting sister, Brierley, was using the chair because she had sprained an ankle while messing around with Dale in the garden. Brierley had gone inside the house “to have a rest and put her foot up” and Damaris was sitting in the wheelchair because it was convenient and she liked to watch the fish. Suddenly the unbraked wheelchair went whizzing into the goldfish pond, and although Damaris was a reasonable swimmer she couldn’t untangle herself from the chair.

The deed was done! It was a tragic accident. As soon as they can dry the wheelchair Brierley will be making a fast entrance down the aisle of the nearest church. Let’s hope Dale doesn’t try any funny business with his latest wife. After all, Brierley has secret, perhaps handy, photographs of Dale holding Damaris under water.